Roastling
Lamb berg ahoy!
Thar she bastes!
Sliver me ginger!
Source the mint!
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Category: Postcard
July 8, 2013
Peptic Ulster
My father ,‘Aitch’, as I called him
for nuisance value, came from Ulster.
(Tyrone to be preciser. Dungannon
to be preciser still). Growing up, as you do,
it was clear the Ulster had troubles.
My father, who, as is stated above,
came from Ulster,
Tyrone to be preciser,
Dungannon to be preciser still.
Suffered from an Ulcer.
‘We have all got our crosses to bear.’
He told me on occasion.
Later it was strange to discover that an Ulster Fry
is very similar to a Full English
except with farls and other stuff.
July 5, 2013
Cornlegs Kellflakes
Above them clouds the monk soars:
Theloniously.
July 5, 2013
daylight robbery
dawn breaks on the bough
replacing weary night;
werewolf and dogman
return to their lairs;
and, we ride out
to snatch Tyburn’s necklace,
and plant it deep in
undiscovered clays
July 5, 2013
Twitching
Cripes a Gull!
In a dank, mildewed grike the bells either
ding, dong, or dull.
The last spat of evening hedgelights the sward.
Then, in the blank of an eye and a
flicker of wee finger
we hear us considering the climate of Sumatra
(a place that should rhyme with tomato).
Things get dafter and soon after
we settle on Java instead.
July 5, 2013
Burin
Jejune
plastic paddy
once bumptious happy
sat out night’s
confinement considering a
crap consignment.
The can is
a frying pan:
A con sang;
‘Guinevere’
Sad that…
July 5, 2013
Bends
Carp descends
Sleep pretends
Lark ascends
Gets bends
Bubbly blood
De-compression
Time – Chime – Bell – Swell – Well…
Bob’s Up!
Whiffs what?
Aroma of Verona
Yes
Lisa & Pizza.
July 5, 2013
Piershow
comfy?
Lundy bloody Lundy!
porphyry purple
leopard:
gatefold freezing
under dowdy woolly blazer
bracing beside steadfast seaside
hardy Skegness donkey
July 5, 2013
some lines on a summer’s night
Soft verse for the rolling on day
rich corpulent berries:
shiny cherries make windows for
the platinum moon
and smooth lies curse yesterday’s
setting sun.
July 3, 2013
Send in the Drones
Wasn’t that sick?
Are you aware?
Me lying dead on the ground,
You in mid-air.
Send in the drones.
Didn’t it miss?
How can they prove?
One who keeps tearing around,
One who can’t move.
Where are the drones?
Send in the drones.
Just when I’d stopped opening wars,
Finally knowing the one that I wanted was yours,
Making my entrance again with my nonchalant air,
Sure of my lines,
No one is there.
Don’t you love force?
My call I fear.
I thought that you’d want what I want.
Sorry, my dear.
But where are the drones?
Quick, send in the drones.
Don’t bother, they’re here
Isn’t it sick?
Isn’t it clear,
Losing my timing this late
In my career?
And where are the drones?
There ought to be drones.
Let’s get out of here.
Related articles
- US drone strike in Pakistan kills 18 (thenewstribe.com)
